Fork or Food?

The name of my food blog is Open Mouth, Insert Fork (a takeoff on "Open mouth, insert foot," something at which I excel.)

It just occurred to me that Open Mouth, Insert Food may be better because "food" is just one letter away from "foot."

What do YOU think? Fork or food?

The Picky Eaters Club

My daughter Cynthia didn't start out life as a picky eater. At eight months, she gobbled down Gerbers like it was gelato. Later, she snacked on canned green beans as if they were wands of licorice. She moved on to devour raw, whole carrots ala Bugs Bunny. "What's up doc?" we'd tease.

But after she turned three, she became a notoriously picky eater. I used to joke that there were only five foods on the planet that she would eat, but we could only afford three of them. Her palate has expanded only slightly since then. And we can still only afford two of her favorite foods, crab and filet mignon, on special occasions.

Not so with me. Except for a brief stage when I didn't like my foods touching, I have never been a fussy eater. Food didn't have to be perfect - it just had to be good and plentiful. I loved to consume mass quantities of food, and, for a few decades, I could get away with it. I'm the only person I know who consistently went back for seconds at her college cafeteria. (I still dream about those Southern-style grits and gravy.) After college in South Carolina, I moved from West Virginia to California where a whole new world of food options opened up - Mexican, Japanese, Thai, Indian, Vietnamese. I couldn't get enough of it.

But now I've finally entered the stage I bypassed as a toddler. I've become a picky eater. Or perhaps it's more correct to say that I'm a particular eater. The old Susan was discriminating but pragmatic. If the eggs were slightly overcooked or the chicken Tikki Masala a little sweet, it didn't matter. And, from the way I would clean my plate, noone would guess that the food didn't meet my standards. These days, after a few unenthusiastic bites of sub-par food, I put down my fork.

It's now official: I'm a member of the picky eaters club. If the temperature and freshness aren't just right, I'm guaranteed to turn into a dining diva. Here are a few of my "rules":

Temperature:

• Hot foods must be served hot and cold foods must be cold. There's nothing worse than lukewarm soup or room-temperature salad.
  

• Sushi and sashimi must be neither hot nor cold. The sushi rice should be room temperature and the fish slightly cool, not cold. That's why prepackaged sushi is a no-can-eat.
  

• All of the foods on a hot plate should be the same temperature. When we were in Seattle last week, we ordered breakfast out one morning. The sausage was hot, the toast and hash browns were warm, and the eggs were cold, making the entire plate inedible. My hat (and wig) is off to Russell's, the Pasadena restaurant that always gets the temperature right.
  

• Bread or pastries should never be refrigerated. That's why I'll only eat cream puffs from Beard Papa's, where they don't fill the pastry with cream until the customer orders. And I won't touch those expensive, refrigerated sandwiches at Starbuck's.
  

Freshness:

• A donut is only edible within two hours out of hot oil. Say what you like about KrispyKreme , but you can't beat the freshness. George, on the other hand, has a "There's no such thing as a bad (or stale) donut" motto.
  

• A French baguette should be consumed within eight hours out of the oven. An eight-minute time frame is preferable and always possible at Lee's Sandwiches. (And at 99 cents a baguette, you can't beat the price.)
  

• Unless home-made or from Europane, muffins should be outlawed. I recently attended a media event where giant Costco muffins were served. We could still see the tell-tale discarded cardboard box with hermetic plastic seal in the nearby trash can. Does anyone actually like these bloated baked goods?

Now that the culinary cat is out of the bag, it may be less of a mystery as to why I'm having trouble gaining weight.

And I feel it only fair to warn you: I've developed the annoying habit of criticizing the food on other diners' plates, a no-no that is more taboo than prepackaged sushi or Costco muffins.

What are YOUR food turnoffs?

Take Comfort!

Think childhood, warm fuzzy memories and comfort, and chances are macaroni and cheese comes to mind. Never mind that the mac 'n' cheese of our childhood may have come in a box with an orange powder.

At my first annual "Take Comfort!" party on Saturday, macaroni and cheese was the star attraction. My rich, creamy version of the perennial favorite requires only slightly more effort than the orange stuff in a box. You don't even need to cook the macaroni in advance; just stir the hard noodles right into the cheese, milk and cottage cheese concoction.

I multiplied the recipe times six to make enough to feed nearly 40 comfort-craving women.

The guests said it was the best mac 'n' cheese they've ever tasted.

This recipe for Creamy Macaroni and Cheese first appeared in the January 4, 2006, issue of the New York Times and spent weeks as the number-one most emailed article. I don't know what this said about the State of the Union, but Americans were apparently in need of the healing power of cheese.

Creamy Macaroni and Cheese
Published: January 4, 2006

Time: 1 hour 15 minutes

2 tablespoons butter
1 cup cottage cheese (not lowfat)
2 cups milk (not skim)
1 teaspoon dry mustard
Pinch cayenne
Pinch freshly grated nutmeg
1⁄2 teaspoon salt
1⁄4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 pound sharp or extra-sharp cheddar cheese, grated
1⁄2 pound elbow pasta, uncooked.

1. Heat oven to 375 degrees and position an oven rack in upper third of oven. Use 1 tablespoon butter to butter a 9-inch round or square baking pan.

2. In a blender, purée cottage cheese, milk, mustard, cayenne, nutmeg and salt and pepper together. Reserve 1⁄4 cup grated cheese for topping. In a large bowl, combine remaining grated cheese, milk mixture and uncooked pasta. Pour into prepared pan, cover tightly with foil and bake 30 minutes.

3. Uncover pan, stir gently, sprinkle with reserved cheese and dot with remaining tablespoon butter. Bake, uncovered, 30 minutes more, until browned. Let cool at least 15 minutes before serving.

Yield: 6 to 8 servings


For the ultimate comfort, follow the lead of one Take Comfort! guest and hop into your favorite pair of froggie slippers, slip on your zebra-print socks and pour yourself a glass of Shiraz.

Driving for Noodles

How far would you drive for a good bowl of noodles? (The question reminds me of that old cigarette jingle, "I'd walk a mile for a Camel.") Now that the simple bowl of ramen has nearly reached cult status in Los Angeles, I think many ramen lovers would answer "far." From the San Gabriel Valley to J-town. Down the 405 to the South Bay. Across town to the west side.

And why venture so far from home? To paraphrase notorious bank robber Willy Sutton, because that's where the ramen is. Or at least the ramen worth eating, according to a list compiled by rameniac food blogger Rickmond Wong, dubbed the "Rock Star of Ramen" by the LA Times.

In my quest to visit rameniac's top five picks (I have two more to go), I'm logging extra miles on the Prius and contributing a little more to global warming.

But it is possible to satisfy a yen for ramen while being kind to the planet, thanks to "the rule of three," a little life-changing strategy I picked up from Paula. It's not as kinky as it sounds. The trick is to cluster a far-flung outing with two other nearby activities.

Since Santouka, Wong's number-one favorite ramen shop, is located in the food court of the westside Mitsuwa Market, this took less effort than making a Cup O' Noodles.

I stopped at Mitsuwa to pick up special o-sembe, or rice crackers, to include in my Dad's birthday package. He became addicted to these during the occupation of Japan more than 55 years ago. And, wouldn't ya' know it, you still can't buy a rice cracker anywhere near Ravenswood, West Virginia.

I also purchased prizes for my niece Emily, one of the two winners of the "What Would Susan Eat" contest. (Since she lives in a Duke's state, she gets an "only in LA" prize.) I chose these snacks for my great nephew Will because I think it's my job to remind him that he's one-eighth Japanese.

I couldn't resist buying these ultra-thin, chocolate-covered MEN'S Pockys for Emily. What makes this product masculine? The bitter chocolate? The dangerous packaging with chocolate draped like a noose? The smoking cigar effect? Are men actually purchasing these or are women buying them for the men in their lives? My hunch is that rebellious women are rising up and scarfing down on this "forbidden" confection. "Men's" Pocky be damned!

My friend Barbara F, the other winner of the WWSE contest, lives nearby and joined me for a bowl of ramen. Here she is with her coveted jar of Duke's mayonnaise.

So far, so good. I've caught up with a friend. I've passed the mayo. I've purchased snacks from Mitsuwa for a birthday gift and a WWSE prize. Isn't that already more than a threesome? But what about the ramen? Would eating a superior bowl of ramen be like hitting a home run?

Ah, the ramen. Beautiful presentation. Slightly chewy noodles. Complex broth. Buttery pork. I think it was the best bowl of ramen I've ever had - a home run out of the park with the (rule of three) bases loaded.

How far would I drive for a bowl of noodles? Definitely to Santouka again and again.

Santouka Ramen
Mitsuwa Market Food Court
3760 Centinela Ave.,
Los Angeles, CA 90066
10:00am - 8:00pm

This post also appears at www.cancerbanter.blogspot.com

The Catalog Family

When we were spic-and-span clean and ready for church, our grandma Opal liked to remark, "Why, you look like you've just stepped out of a band box." I'd puff with pride, even though I didn't have the foggiest notion of what a band box was.

These days, when I see a well groomed, coordinated family, I like to remark to myself, "Why, they look like they've just stepped out of the same catalog," whether it's The Gap, JC Penney's or Neiman Marcus.

We are not that family. We are the poster family for mix-it-up diversity. We don't worship at the same churches, dress from the same catalogs or order the same thing in restaurants. And, most of the time, it works for us.

George is a blue-eyed, English-Irish Mayflower descendant. I'm a Hapa, with my mother contributing the kimono-wearing Japanese half and my dad the kilt-clad Scottish side. Cindy is a raven-haired beauty with family roots in Jalisco, Mexico. When it comes to religion, I like to call us the "ABC family" with an agnostic, a Baptist-Buddhist and a Catholic under the same roof. No problem.

As for catalogs, I gravitate towards the classics in J Crew or Banana Republic and throw in a touch of vintage for panache. George (and I hate to admit this) is partial to JC Penney's with no added panache. And it's impossible to confine Cindy's sense of style to a single catalog. Suffice it to say that she would not be caught dead in either Banana or JC Penney's. Again, not a problem.

But what's a family to do when the taste buds swing farther apart than the catalogs?

Let's start with a simple family pasta dinner. I like my pasta cooked al dente, but 18-year-old Cindy and George prefer their noodles wiggly. Cindy, who still has the taste preferences of a pre-schooler ordering from a kid's menu, loves penne pasta with butter and Parmesan cheese. At least she shuns the sawdust in the green can in favor of the freshly grated variety. Of course, sugar-laden Spaghetti O's are still a fave. (Although, now that I'm home from Hotel Hope, I've banned their presence in our pantry.)

George's favorite dinner is spaghetti with meat sauce, salad and bread. Sounds simple enough, but we're palate opposites in every category. He likes my doctored-up version of sauce in a jar with ground meat, fresh herbs, crushed red pepper and wine. I'm in heaven with fresh tomatoes from the garden with plenty of fresh-picked basil cooked up in lots of garlic and olive oil.

For George, salad is based on the "polyester of lettuces," Iceberg. Throw in a few tomatoes (even when they're anemic and out-of-season) and a chopped carrot, top it with bottled Thousand Island dressing and he chows down. The bread should be soft on the outside and soft on the inside. (All of this, of course, is even more upsetting to me than shopping trips to JC Penney's.)

So what's a mom/head cook to do? Take the hard line, "If you want it YOUR way, then cook it your way" tack? Go for the least common denominator and serve up something acceptable to everyone? Bite the soggy bullet and settle for water-logged instead of al dente pasta? Keep trying to introduce my family to the virtues of designer lettuces, home-made balsamic dressings and crusty breads? Sigh.

I'll bet the family in the JC Penney's catalog doesn't have these problems.

COMMENTS: When it comes to food, are you a catalog family? What challenges does your family face?

On a Roll

I had my first taste of cabbage rolls in Sardis, West Virginia, about 40 years ago, and the Allen clan is still talking about that memorable first. When Nathan's mom, Kathleen, served cabbage rolls, I went back not once, not twice, but at least five times for more from a huge pot simmering on the stove. I couldn't get enough.

I was excited but nervous when Nathan announced that Frances would be making the cabbage rolls from his mom's recipe for my visit to the Circle A Farm. Would they live up to Kathleen's legendary cabbage rolls of the sixties? Would my more "sophisticated" palate dismiss them as hillbilly comfort food? Could reality compare with nostalgia?

As it turns out, my nervousness was needless. Frances's cabbage rolls did in fact live up to the legend and the legacy of Kathleen. As the band Foreigner would croon, "It felt like the first time."

It was finally time for me to ask for Kathleen's acclaimed recipe. The recipe started out looking pretty standard (ground beef, sausage, rice), but the last two items surprised me: turmeric and cumin, two standard ingredients in Indian food.

This was a revelation. I searched through at least 100 of the more than 800 cabbage roll recipes on www.cooks.com to see if this was a common addition. Not a single one of the recipes I surveyed included these exotic spices.

Now I'm thinking that this skinny 12-year-old girl must have had an early appreciation for nuanced flavors. And I'm wondering if this early Asian exposure has anything to do with my nearly fanatical love of Indian food. I introduced my brother Robert and my niece Emily to Indian food during a visit to LA a decade ago, and they too were instantly smitten. Now when Emily visits, the first restaurant she wants to hit is an Indian one.

And for this, and the recipe for the best cabbage rolls ever, we thank Kathleen, Nathan and Frances.

Kathleen's Famous Cabbage Rolls

2 lbs Ground Beef
1/2 lb Sausage (Reg. Mild)

Salt & Pepper to Taste
2 Slice of Bread (Crumbs)
1 Cup Of  Instant Rice
1 Egg
1/2 Teaspoon Cumin
1/2 Teaspoon Turmeric 

Mix together ingredients and shape in to fist size (or
whatever size your prefer) meatballs. Roll up in cabbage
leaves that have been parboiled until tender.

Put in a large pot and cover with tomato juice, about one
quart can or more will cover the rolls. Simmer until done,
about 1 1/2 hours.

Enjoy!

PS Hint, hint: When I get out of the hospital after my stem cell transplant and you're thinking
about dropping off food for the family . . .

Almost Heaven

Now that I'm back in Southern California, I've swapped calorie-dense foods for nutrient-dense ones and artery-clogging delicacies for the artery-cleansing variety.

Thanks to my brother Robert, I brought back three jars of the coveted Duke's Mayo. But on Thursday, I met friends for lunch at Cafe Surfas before surfing the food-lovers Mecca in Culver City. I brought home a specialty balsamic vinegar, EVOO and loquat white balsamic vinegar. (Two of these will be "prizes" at the Italian-themed wedding shower I'm hosting later this month for my friend Terry.)

I scarfed down high-fat biscuits and gravy twice in West Virginia, but now I'm back to my favorite breakfast of non-fat plain yogurt with antioxidant-rich, fresh berries. With a cup of hot green tea on the side, it's the perfect anti-cancer indulgence. (Hey, this is Cancer Banter; I figured I better start working that word back into the posts.)

Since my return, I've enjoyed a healthy cobb (no bacon or other high-fat ingredients) salad at Cafe Surfas, indulged in regional Italian cooking from a class at the Old Town Cooking School and eaten Vietnamese baguette sandwiches with a friend at a Pasadena park. Tomorrow I plan to have a bowl of ramen at Daikokuya, the Jonathan Gold-recommended ramen restaurant in Little Tokyo. Then we'll catch the special exhibit on Japanese gardeners at the Japanese American National Museum.

West Virginia might be "almost heaven," but the diversity and quality of foods (both high-fat and low-fat) in Southern California makes this place a little slice of heaven for me.